by S. M. Shade
“He’s six weeks old so his fur is starting to come in. He can’t see or stand yet, not for another two months or so.” Tiny cries emanate from the little creature. “He’s hungry,” Larry says, producing a bottle. “Would you like to feed him?”
“Feed him? I want to take him home,” I reply as he gently rests the bundled cub in my arms. Mason leads me to a small sofa and sits beside me while I put the bottle to the cub’s mouth. After a second, he latches on, and I laugh with delight.
The click of Mason’s cell phone camera makes me look up. “You’ll want to remember this,” he says with a soft smile.
“Look at him. Isn’t he the most beautiful thing?” I run my fingers through the silky fur on the cub’s belly.
“Almost,” Mason replies with a grin, and I feel a blush climb my cheeks. I’m in so much trouble.
The little guy falls asleep by the end of the bottle, and I’m able to spend a few minutes just holding him. His fur is thin and downy soft under my fingers. This is one of those things I know I’ll remember for the rest of my life. The average person doesn’t ever see a panda outside of a T.V. screen, and I held one, fed him. It’s an amazing experience.
“I should put him back in the incubator,” Larry says. “We have to keep him warm.”
“Of course.” I reluctantly hand him over. “Thank you so much for letting me visit.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you could see him.” Larry returns the baby panda to its bed and walks us out the door.
“So,” Mason teases with a grin. “Want to go hold the snakes before we leave?”
“Sure, I had a five foot ball python when I was a kid.”
“Of course you did.” He laughs. “Is there anything you’re afraid of?”
Right now? Him, but there’s no way I’m admitting that. “Spiders.”
“Ugh. I’m in total agreement.”
Larry says goodbye to us at the gate, and Mason tucks me against his side as we walk to the car. He’s so warm, I can’t help but lean into him, and he drops a quick kiss on my temple. “Well, did I keep my part of the bargain? Did you have fun?”
We stop beside the car, and I slip my arms around his waist. “That was amazing. I’ll never forget it. Thank you for bringing me, for showing me something so rare and special.”
“Like you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand into my hair to cup my head.
“Are you comparing me to a panda?” I whisper, my breath catching as his gaze drops to my lips.
“Rare and special,” he murmurs, his mouth grazing softly across mine with the softest of kisses. “My panda.”
Who the hell could resist this man? When his soft lips press firmly against mine, every inch of my body tingles. My skin flushes with heat as he takes my mouth with his, nibbling and sucking. His hands cup my face while his tongue flicks between my lips.
A small moan escapes me when he deepens the kiss. I don’t know how long we stand there, exploring and tasting. Time seems to have no meaning when I’m in this man’s arms. “Come home with me,” he says when we break the kiss. “I promise I’ll make it good, Everly.”
God, I love how he says my name. “Are you promising I’ll have fun?” I tease.
“Time of your life, love.” My phone alarm blares and he gives me a crooked smile. “I’ll need more than two hours this time.”
* * * *
I expect an apartment or condo downtown, so I’m surprised when we head north of the city. “You live in the suburbs?”
“Not exactly. I like my privacy. No close neighbors to hear you scream my name.” I shake my head at him, but can’t help the grin on my face.
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a screamer.”
“I take that as a challenge.”
We pull into a gated community, and he stops to enter a code at the gate, waving to the security guard as we pass through. The neat streets are lined with two and three story houses, all well spaced and immaculate. I can almost smell the money. How does he afford this? I can’t imagine owning a charity brings in much.
“What do you do? I mean other than Striking Back?”
“I teach Mixed Martial Arts a couple days a week.”
That explains that body. All those muscles, soft-hearted, and he can fight. I feel my panties trying to pull themselves down. “Did you ever fight professionally?”
He looks at me like I’m trying to trick him. “Are you serious?”
“Sorry, I just thought if you taught, maybe you used to fight.”
“I did. I retired a few years ago. Now I teach, help train the next generation of fighters,” he replies, pulling into a circular driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac. A large two story brick home looms large in the dark.
“I can actually see stars out here,” I remark with a grin as he leads me to his front door.
“I like being outside the city, away from all the noise and pollution.”
“Me, too. I love the country.”
“Make yourself at home,” he says, leading me into his living room. “I’ll start a fire.”
I take a seat on his long black sectional couch, and my eyes don’t leave his body as he squats to arrange the logs in the fireplace. His shirt rides up, showing a bare strip of skin above his jeans, and I wonder if he’s a boxer or briefs man. If it’s boxer briefs, I’m going to lose it. After lighting the fire, he heads toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water, please.”
When he returns, he hands me a bottle of water and places another on the coffee table. ‘So, you like the outdoors? Do you like to camp?”
“Love it. I just got back from a camping trip with the kids from BTC. Fishing, swimming in the lake, roasting marshmallows. We had a blast.”
“A girl after my own heart,” he says with a grin. That’s not what I’m after tonight. Being this close to him, I can barely control the urge to rip his clothes off and lick those bulging muscles. “Tell me you made smores.”
“Huh?” Shit. I was staring at his ass instead of listening.
He sits on the edge of the couch and reaches to brush a strand of hair off my cheek. “You were checking me out. Are you happy with what you see?” His deep voice is teasing.
“Not too shabby.”
“Well, if you can ignore my shabby ass a moment, I asked if you had smores on your last camping trip.”
Pull it together, Everly! I’m making a fool of myself drooling over him. I can’t explain it. I mean, he’s sexy, but it’s more than that. I just want him. “Nope. Forgot the graham crackers, and I really wanted to try them.”
“You’ve never had smores?” When I shake my head, he abruptly rises, jogs to the kitchen, and returns with a long wooden skewer, a bag of marshmallows, a bag of mini Hershey bars, and a stack of graham crackers. “We’re correcting this travesty right now.”
“Well, aren’t you the boy scout?”
“Always prepared,” he agrees, tugging me to sit beside him on the floor. He impales a marshmallow and hands me the skewer. Pressing his body close to mine, he says, “The trick is to keep it in the heat, not the flame.”
His warm hand lands over mine on the skewer and positions the marshmallow where he wants it. I really hope he doesn’t see the goose bumps running up my arm. The guy just touched my hand and I’m losing it. We watch until the marshmallow turns a golden brown, and he pulls it from the fire before handing me two graham crackers topped with chocolate. I squeeze the marshmallow between the crackers and pull it off the skewer.
When I offer it to him first, he takes the dripping treat and holds it to my lips, watching as I take a bite and lick the gooey marshmallow from the corner of my mouth.
“Good?”
“Delicious. Kind of messy.” My hand is caught halfway to my face when I try to wipe a drip of chocolate from my bottom lip. My gaze meets his a split second before his tongue flutters across my lip, licking away the chocolate. Shit. Did I just moan? Seriously? That was so hot.
&
nbsp; “Evie,” he breathes. “I can’t wait another second to have you.” Before I can think of a response, his lips are on mine and any chance at cognizant thought is long gone. His kiss is different this time. Possessive and insistent. He's dominating my mouth and I’m loving every second.
I feel his smile when I slide my hands beneath his shirt, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his stomach muscles. I want to lick them.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers, running his hand up and down my spine before unfastening my bra. “And you smell amazing.” I tug his shirt off, and he returns the favor, letting my bra fall off my chest to the floor. “So beautiful.” He’s looking at my B-cups like he’s hit the lottery.
Streaks of pleasure shoot through me when his thumbs skim over my nipples, making them pebble with the slightest touch. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I grab his lips with mine, kissing him long and deep. I’m indulging in one night with this man, and I’m going to lick every inch of his sweaty muscled body. With a growl—I swear the man growled—he picks me up and carries me to his bedroom, pausing to turn on the light.
I’m placed on the bed and his hot mouth is on my breast before I can move, his fingers unfastening my jeans. When I unbutton his pants, he backs up and pulls my jeans and panties off, desire burning in his eyes as they travel over me. “No fair,” I whisper, as he stands over my bare body. “Show me yours.”
A chuckle rattles his chest. “Oh, I’ll show you mine, love. After I look at you, taste you. I’ve been picturing this for so long. I have to savor it.” Again, I have no response, just picturing that face between my legs has struck me mute.
Piercing eyes meet mine and a fiendish grin makes my heart race as he drops to his knees and tugs me to the edge of the bed. “You’re a lot less argumentative in bed. I’ll have to remember that next time you wag that sharp tongue at me.” I turn my head, unable to meet his eyes when he spreads my legs and gazes between them.
“Turn the light off,” I order, feeling way too vulnerable.
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” A soft fingertip runs through my folds, tracing them lazily. “You’re pretty here, too.”
“Oh, God,” I groan as he slips a thick finger into me, circling and teasing. Wet, open mouthed kisses burn a trail from the inside of my knee, up my inner thigh until I feel his hot breath between my legs. Ice blue eyes peek up at me, the crooked smile on his face telling me I’m in trouble.
He doesn’t start slow. I nearly scream when his tongue dives inside, then covers every inch of me in seconds. He eats me ravenously, making me fight to close my legs, to control the sensations that are too much, too strong. Thick arms clamp around my thighs, holding me open to his devastating mouth and I plead, “Mason.”
His responding hum vibrates against me, and I moan again. He latches on just above my opening and sucks at me, sending fire shooting through my core as every nerve ending I possess stands at attention. “Oh! Fuck!”
Just before I come, he slows and moves down to drag his tongue everywhere but where I need it. “No, please,” I whimper, trying to pull him back where I need him. Just another few seconds.
I feel his smile. “In good time, baby. We’ve got all night.”
Not if I choke him to death with my thighs. He left me hanging on purpose. He takes his time lapping at me, stroking in and out with his fingers, keeping me right on the edge while I squirm and pant.
“Mason,” I groan.
“Does it feel good?” Good doesn’t begin to describe it.
“Too good. Please.”
“I love to hear you beg for me.”
“You’ve got about ten seconds before I kick you in the balls.”
He throws his head back, laughing. “I’ve got you, baby.” He trails his lips up and seals his mouth over my clit, sucking slow and steady, ignoring my hands trying to tear out his hair. I’m drowning in pleasure, making noises that barely sound human. My world tilts and shatters, leaving me in a freefall I never want to end. He lessens the pressure, stroking over me with the flat of his tongue, making the spasms go on and on.
When I finally gain control, he’s standing at the edge of the bed, grinning down at me and taking off his pants. Boxer briefs! And they hug every delicious inch of him. Speaking of inches. When he shoves down the underwear, I try not to react to the python that’s pointed at me, but Christ, he’s huge. I’ve never been with a man that big.
His smile widens at my expression, and he rolls a condom over the beer can he calls a cock before crawling up my body. “I’ll go easy,” he says, planting a long soft kiss on my lips.
“Kind of explains your arrogance.”
“You’re just mad because I made you scream.”
“Yeah, please, never do that again.” He chuckles, and I feel him nudging at my entrance, ending my attempt at humor.
“Sorry, not going to be able to do it. That was sexy as hell. I need to hear it again.”
I bury my face in his neck with a gasp as he slides halfway in. His brow furrows in concentration while he rocks slowly in and out, plunging deeper with each stroke until he’s buried in me. I feel stretched to the limit, crammed full of him and it’s too damn good.
“You okay, love?”
“Yes,” I moan, tilting my hips to meet his.
“Oh, Fuck, Evie.” True to his word, he takes his time, fucking me with slow deliberate strokes. Pushing and dragging through swollen, sensitive tissues until I’m building again.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp, thrusting against him. He obliges, giving it to me harder and faster until I fall apart beneath him, my hands clawing his firm ass. His rhythm falters and he groans my name as he comes.
Goddamn it. I knew he’d be good.
* * * *
Thin sunlight bleeds through the drapes, throwing just enough light for me to see where the hell I am. Shit. I spent the night. I didn’t mean to do that. After our second time where I rode him like a feral horse, he crashed hard. I meant to let him sleep a few, then call a cab, but I guess he wore me out.
My phone shows it’s only five a.m. so maybe I can still avoid the awkward morning after where we fill each other with lies about how we’ll call. As I dress, I take a second to appreciate the human work of art spread out before me. He looks young and vulnerable in sleep, his long eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. God, the beauty of the eyes behind those eyelids is something to remember.
With that stubbly jawline and muscled body, he’s far too masculine to be described with the word beautiful. His arms are tucked behind his head, his biceps bulging. I have a wonderful memory of squeezing them as I rode him the night before, and the look on his face when he came was the thing of fantasies. My vibrator is going to think its name is Mason.
This is my chance to get a better look at the colorful tattoos that sleeve his right arm and dip to cover half his chest. Deep green vines and leaves wind around his bicep and grow across his chest. Scattered between them are drawings of different flowers. I recognize a few. Pastel yellow magnolias, purple hyacinths, bright red gladiolus. They’re beautiful, detailed, and truly a work of art, but it’s a little odd for a man to get tats of flowers, isn’t it? Flaming skulls and big tittied women seem more their style.
In the dip between his clavicle and neck, there’s an outline or maybe a scar. It’s so faint I can’t tell. I jump when he snorts and rolls onto his side. I need to quit ogling him and get out of here before he wakes up.
I find my shirt on the living room floor beside his. The half-eaten smore lies near the fireplace, and I consider throwing it away, but I want him to see it, to remember me. Which reminds me, I need my souvenir.
It’s weird and creepy, I know, but I’ve done it as long as I can remember. When I was moved from one foster home to another, I always took something to remember them, and left something so they’d remember me. After a quick glance around the room, I pick up his shirt and stuff it in my purse. Now I can go.
I step outside before calling Yellow
Cab, and spend fifteen minutes waiting at the edge of the road until it shows up. The driver gives me a knowing smile. Catching a cab at five-thirty a.m. on a Sunday with mussed hair and wrinkled clothes is a blatant walk of shame announcement. I get the same look from the people in the lobby of my apartment building, and though I try really hard, I can’t find a shit to give. After a quick shower, I fall into bed and back to sleep.
The buzzing of my phone wakes me a few hours later, and the display shows I’ve missed two calls and a few texts. Mason? Why is he calling already? I didn’t leave anything behind.
The first text is from Ian.
-Get your ass up. Have lunch with me today.-
The last three are Mason.
-Is there a reason I woke to an empty bed?-
The next is time stamped an hour later.
-What the hell, Evie?-
And another hour later.
-Call me, Everly.-
What does he want? Guys never like to wake up to a one night stand, and I spared him the experience. He should be grateful. I don’t want to talk to him, so I settle for texting him.
-Sorry, had to be somewhere. Had fun. Hope you did too. Thanks for a wonderful night.-
My phone beeps almost instantly.
-You had to be somewhere before six a.m. on Sunday? I call bullshit.-
He must’ve woke just after I left.
-Didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Last night was great. Talk to you later.-
-Quit trying to ditch me and ANSWER YOUR PHONE.-
I’ve barely read his text when my phone buzzes again. Persistent asshole. I relent and press the accept call button. “It’s rude to use all caps, you know.”
“Why didn’t you feel welcome?” he demands.
“What? I didn’t mean…look, we both know how this goes. I didn’t want you to wake, realize I spent the night and worry I’d try to stay and make breakfast or something.”
“I don’t know who you’ve been dating, Evie, but he’s obviously an asshole. I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t want you to stay, and not just until we’re done in bed. Next time, I want breakfast.”